


Facade in the Forest

by nindroidzane



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24801817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nindroidzane/pseuds/nindroidzane
Summary: Just a couple of centrists going for a midnight walk in the woods
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	Facade in the Forest

"What are we doing out here, Radical Centrist?"

The other centrist seemed to ignore him, instead continuing to step briskly through the mud and shade of the forest. 

"Radical Centrist?" He repeated tentatively, carefully stepping around a sticky brown puddle.

Finally, he turned his head, an irritated expression faintly illuminated by the tree-dappled moonlight.

"Yes?" He snapped without a break in his stride.

"Why are we out here?" He asked again, skirting a patch of mud and weeds. "And why couldn't it wait until morning?"

Radical Centrist pinched the bridge of his nose. "I said I would tell you when we got there. Does it look like we're fucking there?"

He shook his head. "I just don't see why we're going through this forest, is all."

Not paying attention to where he was walking, he splashed a small cascade of mud onto his clean white shirt. He grimaced.

"It would make more sense to head back to the sidewalks, yeah?" He tried to reason. The other centrist rolled his eyes, turning his head forward stubbornly.

Deciding there probably was no reasoning with him right now, he let the subject drop, and they continued walking through the forest silently. The squish of the ground beneath their shoes and the windless creaking of old trees seemed tight and confined, and the long blankets of shadow hid small shapes, barely identified by their movement in the grass. The hushed whispering of the blades and the suffocation of the trees was starting to make him nervous.

"Radical Centrist?" He pleaded, finally relenting into speaking again. "I really don't think I like this place."

Again, the other man was silent.

"Are we almost there, at least?" They were approaching a shallow trickle of a creek, the murky waters almost invisible under the thick, choking darkness of the forest.

Abruptly, Radical Centrist turned. "Yes. We're here."

Puzzled, he looked around. It looked the same here as it did in the rest of the forest. If anything, it was harder to see the figure in front of him with the particularly dense canopy of trees above them.

"...here?" He squinted, trying to make out the face of his companion. All he could see was his silhouette; posture perfect, and arms folded behind his back.

"What exactly are we doing here?" 

Silence, save for an owl hooting just above.

He poked around the edge of the creek bed with the toe of his shoe, wondering if maybe there was something in the mud they were searching for. Though, he couldn't imagine why the other centrist would bring him on one of his crazy self-appointed missions. He wasn't one for adventure.

Finding nothing, and becoming a bit annoyed that his friend had dragged him all the way out here only to wordlessly stare at him in the dark, he removed his muddied shoe from the earth and turned his gaze back to the other to make some kind of snippy remark.

Instead, he found himself face to face with the barrel of a gun. 

"W-what are you doing?" He stuttered out, still unable to see the other's face. "Is this… is this what we came out here for?"

"Don't take it personally." He cocked the gun, pressing it up to his forehead. "It needs to be this way. For the others. For me."

Tense and speechless, he could only stare up at the hand holding the gun.

"I don't want to die, old friend." The gun clicked. "I'm sorry."

He fell into the creek with a splash, his white shirt quickly becoming a mucky shade of brown. Blood ran down his face and into the water, hardly visible. With a gentle wipe, Radical Centrist cleaned the reddish mud from his former companion's face and leaned down to snap a quick picture.

Merely a shadow in what remained of the moonlight, he stood over the limp shape of the former centrist. Parting his lips slightly, he whispered his final words to him, lost to the still air of the night.

"Goodbye, Dead Centrist."


End file.
